Three Truths Poem by Unintelligible Susurration

In the corner of her closet
she uncovers
the familiar sharp knife
that is speckled with
red and white cells.

She caresses it
as if it were something
very dear to her.

'I never really was your friend.
I only was because
I did not want you to be lonely.'

Everyone deserves someone
who cares for them -
except her.
She cuts her wrist
for the first truth.

'I wanted you to be happy
instead of always so
pessimistic and melancholy.'

Angrily she slits her vein.
She lets out
a sigh of relief
as the liquid trickles
down her pale arm.

Truth number two.

'I don't want to
be friends with
a girl with scars
and cuts on her wrists.'

She enjoys the adrenaline
of watching blood
and all her defects
come gushing out.
They had been intoxicating
her precious body.

'I have other friends
who also care about me.
I don't need you.'

The last and final truth.

The cold glistening knife
touches her skin
and she makes
an incision slowly
so the pain lasts
a while longer.